


the price you pay

by Anonymous



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Extra Treat, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Sex to Maintain Cover Identity, Undercover Job Takes a Bad Turn, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: All Cassian has to do is give this guy a blowjob. It should have been simple, easy, and quick.





	the price you pay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/gifts).



Simple, easy, and quick. All this guy wants is a blowjob from the smalltime hustler he thinks Cassian is. He’ll be out of this seedy bar in ten minutes with a valuable cache of intel and no-one will remember him at all: the perfect infiltration.

Cassian licks his lips deliberately and watches his target watch him. His second eyelids flicker, even in the dim light of this backroom office, and Robbick shoves him to his knees.

He goes down with just a small stumble, grabbing at Robbick’s hips, and presses his open mouth to the hard line of the man’’s erection through his pants. This is better than most options; if Cassian had a choice of sex acts on the job he’d usually choose this one. The target can’t see much of his face, there’s no need to either feign or ignore his own arousal. All he has to do is suck hard enough to seem eager.

But Robbick yanks his head back by his hair and slaps him, hard, across the face. Cassian wasn’t expecting that, can’t move with the blow—his head snaps to the side and his bottom lip splits open against his teeth. It hurts, enough that he allows himself a mild objection. “What the fuck, man, no need to be nasty.”

Robbick grins down at him and for the first time tonight a slimy trail of unease slithers along Cassian’s nerves. “Sometimes a little nasty is good.”

“Not right now, or I won’t be nice to you.” He licks his lips again, tasting the metallic tang of blood, and Robbick’s eyes lose focus. He unfastens the man’s pants—better get this over with quickly, before he has any more bright ideas—and goes to work: licking, sucking, pumping his hand and hollowing his cheeks for more suction.

Cassian learned a long time ago that at these moments, it doesn’t help to imagine people he actually likes. It taints his thoughts of them, creates associations in his head that he doesn’t want. So he doesn’t picture someone else while he’s giving Robbick technically skilled, if perfunctory, head. He reviews the list of subjects he observed at the earlier meeting in the bar, tracing possible links between them and other intelligence targets. He’s moving smoothly on auto-pilot, most of his attention already off this planet and en route back to base.

Robbick moans and grabs the back of his skull and Cassian relaxes his jaw, lets him push his cock farther down his throat. This part doesn’t take any skill, just endurance, and Cassian has always been able to endure whatever he has to. His knees ache and his bleeding lip stings, minor irritants when the end is in sight.

Behind his back, the office door crashes open and loud, tinny music from the bar enters the room, along with another set of footsteps. Robbick’s hand fists painfully in Cassian’s hair, and he stops moving with his cock jammed halfway down Cassian’s throat.

“You brought me a present, Robbick?” The new voice is whistling, double-toned, sounding as though it’s filtered through a mask of some sort.

Robbick’s second eyelid retracts and his eyes widen until they’re nearly all black with pupil. Is he turned on or frightened by the new arrival? Cassian has to make a split-second call: stay or get out? But he has no idea who or what’s behind him and if he has to fight his way out at this point, it could get messy. Better to stay put for now.

A thick three-fingered hand grabs his hair and shoves his head forward, forcing it down on Robbick’s cock until his nose is buried in the man’s pubic hair and he almost chokes on the thick obstruction in his throat. A big body thuds to the ground, kneeling right behind Cassian, leaning heavy against him and pinning him against Robbick’s thighs, trapping his arms. Stale whiffs of recycled air puff on the back of Cassian’s neck. “Don’t get up, pretty thing.”

Cassian fights to breathe through his nose. The ones who just want to fuck you are less dangerous than the ones who want to play games. If he’s made the wrong choice...

A second hand mauls at Cassian’s crotch. “You aren’t enjoying yourself,” the whistling voice says with a gust of cold that makes Cassian shiver. “That’s not fair.” And the hand slips inside his pants, curling around his soft cock, sliding down and grabbing his balls. There are sharp nails or maybe claws at the end of the thick fingers and as they bite into the tender skin, impossibly, his cock stirs. The stranger’s hand tightens around him and Cassian is grateful for the weight of flesh in his mouth muffling the sound he can’t help making.

He tries to ignore his own reaction, but that doesn’t stop it from happening. He tries to think, to figure out what’s going on—is he just a plaything for two people who like to drag other people into their sex life, or is he actually in danger? 

But Cassian can’t focus on anything else right now. He can’t get back on auto-pilot. He’s here, in this filthy room, on his knees, gasping and choking around one man’s cock with another shoving his mouth further down on it. His eyes are watering, streaming from near-asphyxiation. His cock is agonizingly hard from the rough friction of a slightly scaled hand and a voice wheezing in his ear how lucky he is to be on his knees, forced to open his mouth wide and take it like this. How grateful he should be for getting a taste of Robbick’s cock.

Cassian closes his eyes as the stranger behind him uses his mouth to give another man a blowjob. The body behind him presses forward until Cassian is trapped between the weight at his back and the hard thighs in front, helpless to move his head as Robbick rams into his mouth. He writhes uselessly, unable to get away from the grip on his cock or the erection rubbing against his ass. Or is he trying to thrust forward with shallow pulses of his hips? His cock is aching and pleasure seeps inside him, widening dark crevices until he can’t ignore it, can’t tell himself it’s not there anymore. That he doesn’t want to feel this.

The hand fisting him is relentless, stroking him as brutally as a piston until Cassian comes with a desperate noise stifled by Robbick’s cock, his come splattering over the floor and Robbick’s boots. Robbick comes a heartbeat later, crammed so far down Cassian’s throat that he doesn’t even have to swallow. As soon as he’s finished, he yanks away from Cassian and drags the other man to his feet. 

No longer held up between other bodies, Cassian collapses to the floor. They leave him there, ignored. He presses his forehead to the dirty floor and tries to breathe, sucking in huge gulps of air. From the sounds as they stumble through the door, he was just the opening act and they’re about to have the time of their lives fucking each other. 

His head bowed, Cassian takes one more deep breath, pushes up on his hands and slowly gets to his feet. He’s moving like an old man and his knees are going to be stiff later. It’s okay if he’s a little wobbly. Anyone would be.

With hands that only tremble a little, he does up his pants. His face is a mess, slick with tears and spit and sweat and come, his throat is raw and his split lip throbs, trickling blood. He wipes himself with the hem of his shirt but that only smears everything around, making it worse. He needs to find a fresher, tidy up so he can blend in to the crowd on his way out. A half-full bottle of Corellian whisky is sitting on the desk and he grabs it, swishing a mouthful of the fiery alcohol around to burn out some of the taste.

He looks up, scanning the ceiling and the rest of the room, but doesn’t see any obvious surveillance or recording nodules. And they’ve left him here alone, an unexpected bonus. He can take a few minutes to rifle through the desk, copy any stray datachips left lying about.

Cassian takes another gulp of whisky and recorks the bottle. Not as quick or simple as he expected, but now it’s over. It can be filed away as another successful mission. Feeling filthy is a small price for intel, the standard cost. He's paid it many times before and will again. All that matters is whether what he gets in return is worth it. And what he's fighting for is worth everything he has to give.


End file.
